


spin the bottle

by fightfortherightsofhouseelves



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Ginny's pov, Harry's POV, Harry's not good at understanding his feelings, Heavy Snogging, Hinny, Kissing Games, Muggle AU, Seven Minutes In Heaven, Smut, Spin the Bottle, awkward teenage feels and kisses for the first chapter, going commando, hinny smut for the second chapter, trope: clothes stay on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:20:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25511983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fightfortherightsofhouseelves/pseuds/fightfortherightsofhouseelves
Summary: Harry has a rather curious realisation while he plays 'spin the bottle' and subsequently ends up locked in a dresser with Ginny Weasley for seven full minutes in heaven.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 31
Kudos: 101





	1. part I - Harry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NaruKoibito](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaruKoibito/gifts).



> NaruKoibito sent me this prompt: Spin the bottle, Muggle AU? Harry and Ginny awkward teenage feels? Or the first appearance of Harry's chest monster?
> 
> And here's the result! Hope you like :)

Six full months had passed, and Harry still felt like the new kid. Not that he’d had that many friends at his former school, but he did have his nice spots that he preferred and a decent team to go through decent training sessions and matches with. It was mostly alright, really.

And even though Ron was brilliant and Harry was delighted to notice straight on that they shared a sense of humour, and even though Hermione easily slipped into the role of big sister Harry never had - somehow, he thought, something was still missing. It was a feeling he couldn’t shake off.

New friends from a new school in a new city he’d never even visited before, it was probably too much new in too short a time for a sixteen year old, Mum had told him as Dad patted Harry on the back and flashed him the infectious grin that had always put him at ease before. 

Only that oddly wasn’t it, and the feeling amplified tenfold whenever he hung out with Ron and Hermione after school, a flash of long red hair passing by them now and then with a “Hi, Harry!” and a dash of wit that curiously sent him into a spiral of mushy, confused thoughts. A moment of her presence and Harry went home feeling as though his limbs were suddenly longer, like he didn’t really need arms and hands because obviously he had nowhere to place them without looking utterly strange.

“Little sisters, right?” Ron would usually say and roll his eyes excessively.

“Yeah,” Harry would half-heartedly agree, something violently lurching in his chest at the same time. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly, only that he’d never experienced it before, this raging roar inside him, this sudden headache and awkwardness and urgent need to hide away under his own bed for all eternity.

But now, at Ron’s birthday party, in Ron’s home, Harry sadly had to accept the jarring truth that perhaps there was nowhere to hide. There were so many Weasleys and simply not enough space to slip away unnoticed, Harry observed with a dejected sigh.

“You can always disappear in the bushes behind the tool shed,” he heard her say slyly before brushing past him and somewhere up the many flights of stairs the spiralled from the belly of The Burrow.

Instantaneously, it became too hot and Harry forgot how to swallow. 

“Alright, mate?” Ron grinned, smacking Harry on the back and out of his revery, looking far too jolly. 

Then Hermione followed, attached to Ron’s hand and everything clicked. 

Good, Harry thought. It was quite obvious they fancied each other, heated arguments and banter and all that. He gave them an approving nod and swiftly escaped to the kitchen, afraid they might snog next to him.

But there was no escaping, Harry realised, as Lavender and Parvati marched right after him, repeatedly chanting ‘spin the bottle’, a harassed looking Neville in their wake, his wrist gripped in a tight lock by Lavender’s hand.

Neville gave Harry an apologetic shrug and Harry returned it, as if to say ‘mad, eh?’ Ultimately, he allowed the two girls to shepherd him and the rest of the party up the stairs to Ron’s room, where they speedly produced a glass bottle and placed it in the very centre of the room.

“What’s a birthday party without a kissing game?” Lavender rhetorically asked, her tone filled with glee as she scanned the party as though she was weighing her matchmaking prospects.

“Less of a disaster,” Harry heard someone mutter from behind him. 

Her shoulder brushed against his as Ginny strode across the room to take a seat exactly in front of Harry and he could swear she winked as she did so. He wasn’t really aware she was actually part of the party but somehow suddenly the game seemed like less of a terrible idea. 

As the birthday boy, Ron got to spin the bottle first, grin faltering immediately when it didn’t stop in front of Hermione. And as the birthday boy, he was granted an additional spin and Harry was ready to swear his wrist barely twitched, the bottle moving ridiculously little and stopping short just in front of her. Hermione blushed, but met him halfway across the room, where Ron waited with a pleased smile plastered to his face.

Harry very much hoped he himself would never look like that if it would ever be his turn to spin the bottle.

Then Lavender kissed Seamus and Parvati kissed Dean and Hermione would’ve kissed him too if Ron hadn’t accused the carpet of tampering with the bottle’s trajectory; fortunately, the bottle stopped in front of him the second time Hermione spinned and all minor teenage drama was averted.

But then Neville kissed Ginny - an innocent peck on the lips, really, and still Harry hoped beyond hope that Ron had had the sense to decree it was time for cake before their mouths touched and that raging, deafening roar reverberated from Harry’s chest again. Why exactly, Harry couldn’t tell, but he was very close to being absolutely certain a monster had built itself a nest inside him.

It was Ginny’s turn to spin the bottle despite Ron’s protests of not having invited her to play along but she simply ignored her brother and Harry felt his heart strum faster. Without really intending it to, his brain started chanting ‘I hope it’s me, I hope it’s me, I really, really hope it will be me.’ He tried to pay it no mind.

The glass bottle revolved in the centre of the room quickly, shuddering as it picked up speed. It went around in wide circles until it eventually slowed down, its mouth nearly stopping in front of everyone present until it finally did - in front of Harry. He realised he’d been holding his breath.

Ginny gave him a dazzling smile and perhaps she waited for Harry to do something; so Harry gave her a curt nod. 

Aware he might have looked like a fool, frozen on his spot as he was in the middle of a kissing game, Harry finally got a good enough grasp on his wits to put his limbs into motion and start crawling across the room to what seemed like a million miles away, where Ginny was waiting for him, palms on her knees and a blazing look about her face that knocked all air out of him. The chest monster roared in what seemed like triumph.

His bruised knees touched the freckles on hers and Harry drew a long breath in and closed his eyes, ready to lean in or risk dying of embarrassment. In a heartbeat, her lips were on his and a violent shudder coursed through his body, colours bursting at the back of his eyelids as she relaxed against his mouth and he could feel as their lips glided briefly against each other.

But then Ron loudly cleared his throat and the brilliant moment came to an end. 

Harry crawled back to his place in the circle feeling rather lightheaded, eyes blinking fast behind round glasses.

“Your turn, Harry,” Ginny quipped and he registered with a twinge of delight that her cheeks were a little flushed, that she herself appeared to be a bit dizzy too.

“Oh, right,” he nodded and coughed a bit into his fist, hoping to clear all remains of awkwardness. 

Which all swiftly came rushing back smack into him when the traitorous bottle unexpectedly stopped to a halt in front of Ginny, to a chorus of excited oohs and aahs erupting from Parvati and Lavender.

“You know what this means, right?” Lavender giggled and she looked highly pleased, her eyes glinting with mirth as she scanned Harry from head to toe.

Harry did not know at all what that meant but he supposed Ginny did: she was biting her lip, a tinge of pink spreading across her neck, up to her cheeks before she shook it off and grinned widely at Harry.

“If the bottle chooses the same people twice, it’s time for Seven minutes in heaven!” Parvati clapped her hands and Harry vaguely registered the sound of a glass shattering in the background. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean with half a glass in his fist and faintly Harry recalled Ron telling him he’s glad Ginny broke up with Dean.

“Come on, don’t just stand there,” Lavender excitedly pushed him to his feet, much to Harry’s annoyance, as Parvati rushed to do the same to Ginny. 

Privately, Harry did find it odd that his two classmates were more excited at the prospect of him and Ginny being locked for seven minutes inside Ron’s dresser, but then again when has he become such an expert at understanding his own feelings?

He allowed her to step inside the small annex first and, with a shy smile, Harry closed the door behind them, pretending not to hear Ron’s indignant shouts and critique of ‘such a foolish, stupid rule’ he’d never heard of before or the sound of the door slamming shut as, Harry supposed, Dean stormed out.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” Harry hurried to say as his eyes dropped on her, her back against a shelf and her freckled face dipped a little to the side - but she just smiled at him, giving Harry the distinct impression he was acting more like a little boy and less like his actual age.

“Why wouldn’t I want to?” Ginny quirked an eyebrow at him, the expression on her face bemused.

Harry found he had no good answer. 

“Six minutes,” Ron’s voice announced from the other side of the door and Harry swallowed hard.

“Let’s not waste more time, then.” 

He rather felt the words roll down his tongue, unaware he’d even opened his mouth. But the look on her face wiped his panicky thoughts in an instant and soon there was no distance left between them, her deep brown eyes locking with his as she raised on her tiptoes to reach him. He felt an intoxicating flowery scent and Harry’s mind stopped functioning, the monster inside his chest purring so incredibly loud he was afraid she might hear it.

Harry slanted his mouth over hers, easily at first and then with a desperation he didn’t know he possessed, the smell of wildflowers taking hold of his brain and commanding it to do things Harry’d never done before: he placed a hand at the small of her back as the other wound through her long red hair, almost gripping when he felt Ginny deepen the kiss and walk him back till he hit the wall.

His heart strummed wildly as her tongue easily slipped into his mouth and Harry kissed her back as enthusiastically as she was kissing him, teeth sinking into lips, mouths glued to each other in a frenzy of groans and sighs and hands gripping at hair in a way that resembled near hopelessness, near despair.

Suddenly, Harry switched their places and it was him who was towering over her, one palm flush against the wall as her mouth traveled down to his neck to suck and kiss and turn Harry’s knees to butter. He felt like melting into her. 

“Ginny,” he groaned once her hands pressed to his chest and roamed there, pulling him by his shirt even closer to her, so intoxicatingly close Harry let his eyelids fly shut and his head roll back to give her better access. He felt like he would soon burst from the sheer pleasure of it, from the delightful madness of having her mouth on his and feeling her body press harder into him.

His knees were about to give in and take them both tumbling to the ground when the door flew open and a fuming Ron appeared, Hermione, Lavender, and Parvati unsuccessfully tugging him back by the hem of his shirt.

“Time’s up, Potter,” Ron growled and Harry jumped as far away from Ginny as he could, his chest heaving rapidly, heat enveloping his face with such force Harry thought his body might’ve caught fire.

“He thinks he can just interrupt people if it’s his birthday,” Ginny spat indignantly, her breathing just as erratic as Harry suspected his was. A strand of hair was plastered to her cheek, creating an even deeper tinge of red spreading over her face, a heavy pout and an irritated glare about her as she looked at her brother, daring him to say more.

Harry took advantage of the impromptu family feud to readjust himself, his glasses, and try as much as he could to tame his hair so that it didn’t right away scream ‘heavy snogging in the dresser.’ He thought he owed as much to Ron, at least on his birthday.

Ginny was the first to exit with a pointed huff as she passed her brother, chin held up high. Harry followed her with a faltering grin, feeling the weight of Ron’s frown glued to the back of his rumpled head.

He awkwardly sat back down on the floor and was ready to dismiss everything as the natural result of a teenage party and subsequent kissing game, when Ginny deposited herself right next to him. Harry looked at her inquiringly but she just smiled and placed her hand close to his, the tips of their fingers nearly touching and, oh, how much he wanted them to touch, to take her small hand in his. The chest monster roared again.

Harry cleared his throat, wondering if he should propose they talk or if it was all in his head, this ridiculous idea that she might be fancying him as he was her. Because, yes, that was it, that was exactly it: he fancied Ginny!

He fancied Ginny with her sharp wit and her blazing look and her freckles in clusters splattered over her face. He fancied her and finally, finally what had been missing for so long seemed to fall into place. 

Harry felt like a giant weight had been lifted from his chest, like his muddled mind had cleared at last. He felt like all he needed to do was reach out his hand and effortlessly he might lift from the ground and fly.

“Eugh, what are you grinning at?” Ron muttered from across the room, eyeing Harry suspiciously.

He hadn’t even realised he’d been grinning stupidly but it made sense.

“Sorry, mate,” Harry flashed Ron a winning smile and quickly turned to Ginny. “Should we?” He gestured for the door and she happily got up, flipping her long hair back and meeting Harry with a brilliant grin that lit up her features so beautifully his heart leaped.

“I know a place where we can talk in private,” Ginny winked and Harry instantly knew where they’d be going. 

It was the first time he’d ever looked forward to sitting hidden in some bushes behind an old, dusty tool shed, but right then it seemed like the most comfortable place to talk and talk and talk until their mouths would tire and their lips would become marvellously swollen.


	2. part II - Ginny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three years later, same small dresser.

“Come on, hurry,” Ginny tugged at his hand as she giggled, the words and letters oddly melting into each other as she tried to talk. Her head was spinning slightly, feet stumbling against feet as she climbed the stairs as speedily as she could, Harry’s hand clinging tightly to hers.

“But Ron -”

Ginny spun around and flashed him a bored little look. “Too busy shagging in the bathroom.”

“Woah, happy birthday, mate,” Harry whispered reverently and nearly tripped over the next step, woozy on his feet.

Ginny giggled again, lips stretching in endearment as she took in his somewhat disheveled look, the rumpled shock of dark hair, the glasses slipping down his nose, the half unbuttoned shirt, all of it the natural result of a twenty year old’s birthday party with too much alcohol and a pack of older brothers inventing new and increasingly wilder drinking games on the spot.

She started tugging at his arm again, a new found ardour in her body, a dizzying kind of determination taking hold of her mind. Or maybe it was the wine, Ginny didn’t really know or care much either. She had a brilliant idea and that was all that mattered.

She pushed open the door to Ron’s room with the sole of her foot, with a small ‘whoops’ as it banged against the wall and a toothy grin at Harry, who still blinked at her as though he’d only begun to cotton on to what she had in mind. Ginny found the semi shocked expression on his face adorable, the way those deep emerald eyes widened behind his round specs.

“That way,” she instructed, marching both of them inside the small annex where it all started three years prior. “Heaven, eh?” Ginny sighed, stumbling over Harry, arms locking at the back of his messy head.

Suddenly, Harry seemed to sober up, his eyes less glossy, a hungry look settling there as he watched her face intently, gazing into her eyes so deeply Ginny felt the tips of her fingers buzz, a wave of electricity coursing through her. Her stomach churned and she swallowed hard, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as her heart strummed wildly, fluttered madly inside its cage.

Then Harry kissed her hungrily, just as mindful not to waste precious time as he’d been at sixteen. At the back of her mind, Ginny could still hear Ron shouting ‘six minutes’, his voice the epitome of annoyance as he exercised his older brother prerogative.

But all of that swirled right out of her head when Harry groaned into her mouth, his fingers gripping at her waist, one knee sliding easily between her legs. This time, it was Harry who was walking them backwards until her back hit the wall and her chest pressed ardently into his, eager for more, more, more.

She fumbled with the rest of the buttons and nearly tore his shirt open, desperate to feel more of him, to taste more of him, to have his skin searing as it rubbed against hers, friction and panting and bodies melting into one. She kissed him ardently, nails raking at his scalp, tongue rolling out moan after moan as his lips trailed from her neck to her chest and kissed her through her dress.

They’d done it countless times before, of course, a relationship as heated as the seven glorious minutes that started it, but somehow - somehow Ginny craved the thrill, the heavy excitement that came with the possibility of being caught, of hiding somewhere small and dark and forbidden to abandon themselves into each other. Her breath hitched as she thought about it.

Her hands went behind her back to try and undo her bra through her dress, managing to trip on her feet in her eagerness, bringing them both tumbling to the ground.

“Alright, Gin?” Harry asked as he cradled her face, looking for the smallest sign that she’d been hurt. Ginny wanted to laugh: how could she ever be hurt when she’s with him?

“Quite,” she smiled, crawling her way up his body to resume their kissing. “Had a bit of trouble with this stupid bra - ah, it won’t come open.”

She supposed her face was probably scrunched up ridiculously as Harry studied her, bemused, before one warm hand snuck inside her dress, feeling the back of her thigh, her bum, caressing the clusters of freckles on her back until two fingers hooked around the clasp and effortlessly popped it open.

“You’re a wizard, Harry,” Ginny grinned and grabbed the insulting garment, tugging it out with such vigour it flew across the crammed dresser, knocking the door slightly ajar. 

Harry chuckled and reached back to shut it with the tips of his fingers, blocking all light again and leaving them in complete darkness.

“Now where were we?” He switched his attention back to her, fingers tickling at her waist, bunching up her dress in their wake.

Ginny simply pressed his hands to her chest and leaned in to whisper confidently against his lips, “I think right about here.” 

Harry groaned hungrily and swiftly rolled them over, now towering over her, kissing and biting at her lips as her thighs rose to bracket his waist, her ankles locking around him in a grip that screamed don’t stop, go on, don’t ever stop.

Harry’s mouth found her chest again through her dress and Ginny couldn’t stop the moan that erupted out of her at the damp, warm feeling, at the increasing pressure that was building in her stomach. It was something exhilarating about him feeling her through her clothes, about this new layer, this new kind of barrier between them and them doing it despite it. Two fingers came to rest between her legs and Ginny cried his name.

Harry pressed his fingers through her dress, her knickers at first, his mouth still hungrily at her breast, his other hand wound tightly through her hair, his glasses tumbling off his nose as she pressed herself enthusiastically up into him, desperate to get more, more, more.

His hand ceased the gentle circles he’d been doing and brilliantly, marvelously found its way inside her dress, inside her knickers as he bunched them aside, inside her wet and hot and needing him achingly so.

Ginny moaned his name again as Harry pumped his fingers into her and she held onto him tightly, sinking her teeth into his shoulder, tugging at his hair, grasping for his jaw to pull his face and mouth and lips from her breast and glue them to her. He didn’t stop but kissed her the way she wanted him to kiss her, madly and hard and breathlessly right there on the floor.

Her hands fumbled with his belt and his hand kept moving, building an intoxicating need for him inside her. She wanted to feel him entirely, to melt into him. She wanted him to have her.

“No, don’t,” Ginny hurriedly said when Harry moved to slide down his jeans and, for a moment, he looked at her bewilderedly. Then, as if understanding perfectly what she was telling him, as if he too was getting the same kind of kick, the same kind of mad thrill out of it. Harry smirked and helped himself out of his pants, the other hand gripping the hem of Ginny’s dress to pull it up enough to find his way inside of her.

Ginny wiggled slightly until her upper back found the wall, one palm at Harry’s shoulder as he pulled her knickers aside once again and drove himself insider her gently. 

Her head rolled back and her eyelids fluttered shut in raw pleasure as he pushed onto his knees to dive in deeper, rapidly driving the easy, tender rhythm into something more urgent, more desperate. She wound herself around him, head feeling the hard impact of the wall as he pushed and thrust, her dress sliding up her thigh to leave it bare as they rocked together, moaning.

There was no alcohol on her tongue, on her mind now, only Harry. Only Harry and the way he tasted as he kissed her, and the way he sighed her name as their bodies glided against one another, the way his touch burned her skin as his palms snuck underneath her and brought her closer to him, deepening his dive. Harry.

His forehead rested against her clavicle as Harry’s breathing became more erratic, more irregular and his thrusts harder, stronger, deeper until Ginny heard herself call his name over and over, pulling at his hair frantically, digging her heels into the floor to push herself up, to be closer, impossibly close to him, to become one with him.

Ginny didn’t know where Harry ended and she began. She only felt the warmth of his open mouth on her skin, the furrowing of her brow as he finally let go and took her with him. Her head hit the wall and she screamed his name. Harry, Harry, Harry.

In the mess that was left, her knickers wet and sticky with the both of them, his jeans carrying drips and spots, proof of their hungry love, Ginny simply let her cheek rest against his stubbled one, sighing contently. It was a different kind of dizziness, her head lighter than it had been not an hour before, when wine was woozing its way through her thoughts, guiding her and tearing down her barriers, tearing down her inhibitions.

Harry lifted his eyes and stared at Ginny briefly, a smile tugging at his lips, sweat glistening at his temples. He gazed at her adoringly and she cupped his chin and brought his lips to hers, the way she wished she could three years before. They only had seven minutes back then - and all their lives afterwards to kiss, to feel, to be happily and irrevocably in love with each other.

“What the bloody hell is this?” Ron’s voice boomed from the other end of the door, shaking her out of her revery. 

Her heart beating in her ears, Ginny listened for her brother’s footsteps. He took a few and stopped again. “Potter, you arsehole,” Ron muttered dejectedly as Hermione’s feet quickly padded across the room.

“How do you know it’s Ginny’s?” Hermione asked, an amused edge to her voice and suddenly the image of herself chucking her bra out of the dresser flitted through Ginny’s mind. She heard Harry stiffle a groan close to her ear.

“Well, it’s not yours, is it?” 

“No, Ron, it’s not mine. I put mine back on not two minutes ago, as you should very well know,” Hermione huffed, dignified, and Ginny was absolutely certain Harry was rolling his eyes just as hard as she was.

“Wait till I get my hands on that prat,” Ron declared and they could hear him stride across the room and slam the door behind him, no doubt taking the insulting piece of garment with him as proof for Harry’s heinous crime.

Ginny bit the inside of her cheek to muffle the bubbling laughter building from the pit of her stomach and coursing up through her until she could no longer hold it in. She burst into laughter, boisterous and heavy, rumpled head buried into Harry’s shoulder as he laughed as loud as she did, fingers wiping at his eyes.

“Oops?” Ginny grinned and Harry leaned in to kiss her nose, moving gently to remove himself from her. Carefully, she straightened her underwear and patted her dress to ease the creases, tucking her legs under her.

“Imagine if we undressed,” Harry winked, righting his clothes and zipping his jeans. This time, he didn’t bother taming his hair, just pushed his glasses up his nose and seemed content with the result. Everyone knew anyway, Ginny supposed. Everyone was doing it, hidden away in different corners of the house.

“Know what, my knickers are entirely too wet to still be wearable,” she started, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes as she watched Harry’s eyebrows shoot up into his hair. “What if you slipped them in your pocket? Give my brother another shock when he rounds up on you?”

Harry laughed at the ridiculousness of her words, shaking his head as if to say ‘be nice, naughty’ but Ginny could see that he was secretly interested, pleased even by her wicked suggestion.

So she quickly lifted her dress to hook her fingers around the edges of the sopping things, rolling them down her freckly legs with a grin on her face and a look in her brown eyes that left Harry gaping. 

“Keep them safe for me, will you?” Ginny winked, her hand slipping inside his front pocket, chest puffing in sheer delight as she could feel him harden against her hand and hear as his breath hitched loudly. 

“What if - erm,” Harry cleared his throat, a little flustered as Ginny took pity and removed her hand, “what if we skipped the cake this year and went directly to my place?”

Grinning widely, Ginny grabbed his face and kissed him deeply, tugging at his hand right afterwards to break into a run directly down the stairs and straight out of The Burrow, Ron’s indignant shouts of ‘Potter, you bloody bastard’ echoing behind them.


End file.
